


The Second Time

by Josselin



Series: Blood [3]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Biting, Laurent is a vampire, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 22:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15738882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: The second time Laurent bit Nikandros.





	The Second Time

The time during which he had a fever was a mess of images, feeling hot and then feeling cold, the pain and burning of his injury, and strange dreams. He dreamed that he was back at Marlas and he was fighting Auguste. He dreamed Kastor was calling to him and then Kastor was Laurent. He dreamed he had killed Auguste and Kastor and Laurent and Nikandros, and when he saw all of their bodies on the ground in front of him, there was nothing to do but to fall on his sword. 

When he came out of the fever, it was very sudden. He was sweating and frantic one minute, and then he was no longer, cooling and feeling lucid for the first time in several days. 

The physician was very pleased, and told him to rest, and Damen slept hard, as though he had been in battle for the last few days, not just lying in his bed. When he awoke it was night, and Laurent was there, and Laurent touched his face gently and Damen smiled back at him.

When he awoke again Nikandros was there, and updated him on what was happening in the kingdom. Nikandros was wearing an archery brace, which Damen noted as odd because Nikandros was not exceptional as an archer. He was also wearing a sword belt and a weapon, since there was still fighting occasionally within the city, and so Damen did not take much notice of it.

The following day, Nikandros was there again. He was telling Damen of the questioning of Periklis, and Damen noticed that he was no longer wearing an archery brace but that there were two suspiciously placed scabs on his wrist.

Nikandros noticed Damen’s gaze on his wrist, and turned his wrist away. Damen raised his gaze to Nikandros’s eyes. He looked at Nikandros hard. Nikandros’s words about Periklis died away. 

“What happened?”

Nikandros looked down. He didn’t immediately say anything. 

Damen was thinking back to Nikandros’s vow that if Laurent ever tried to bite him, Nikandros would kill him. He didn’t think that Nikandros could have dueled Laurent and ended up without any other visible injuries, but he was starting to have a lot of questions.

Laurent walked in, as though he had been summoned by being the subject of Damen’s thoughts. 

Damen turned his gaze on Laurent. “What happened while I was sick?”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. They had briefed Damen the day before, Laurent was probably wondering if the fever had affected his memory. “We saved your kingdom from a coup,” said Laurent.

“No,” said Damen. He nodded at Nikandros’s wrist, which Nikandros had pressed awkwardly against his side. “What happened there?”

Laurent turned Nikandros’s direction, guileless. “Were you injured in the fighting?”

Nikandros was a poor liar; he said nothing. 

Damen let the subject drop. Nikandros and Laurent were obviously both fine. Whatever had transpired, clearly neither of them wished to speak of it, and it had not left either with injuries nor had it set the two against each other. They updated Damen together on the questioning of the leader of the Ios garrison. 

He thought of it again later, when they left him to attend to the business of his kingdom and he was alone to rest. He felt the coil of some emotion he couldn’t name in his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of Laurent biting Nikandros. He didn’t like the idea of Laurent biting anyone--anyone who wasn’t him, at least.

Nikandros was loyal. Damen knew that Nikandros would die for him, willingly, on the field of battle. Nikandros was fighting even now, subduing unrest in the capital in the name of Damen and Laurent’s new kingdom. Nikandros himself might not have realized it yet, but he was loyal to Laurent, also, Damen knew. Nikandros had knelt in front of Laurent and Damen to be named Kyros of Ios, and Nikandros turned naturally to hear Laurent’s opinion on matters of policy and warfare. He did not always agree--sometimes Nikandros knew more about Akielon ways than Laurent and pointed out a problem with Laurent’s proposals--but the two of them were often in consensus.

Damen knew that it was the way of things that when men fought, sometimes they fell, and sometimes blood was shed. He did not like this, but it was a hard truth that he knew well. It did not keep him awake in the darkness. If Nikandros had been hurt in the fighting, and his blood had covered a traitor’s weapon and fallen on the ground, Damen would have wanted to see him bandaged and the traitor dealt with, but he would not have lost sleep over it.

Yet here he was, lying awake in a dark and quiet room, his heart beating rapidly, thinking of Laurent’s teeth on Nikandros’s wrist. Thinking of his friend’s blood coursing through Laurent’s veins. He felt feverish again, almost, with a fever of his thoughts rather than a souring of his wound. 

He wanted to feed Laurent himself, but Paschal already only allowed him to eat broth and would not yet permit him to stand to use a chamber pot; there was no way the physician would allow it. 

Days passed. Damen watched Nikandros closely when his friend attentively reported to him every day. He looked at what Nikandros was wearing closely. Nikandros did not wear archery braces again covering his wrists, and he did not make an effort to obscure his wrists from Damen’s view. There were no new marks. But that only meant Laurent had not bit his wrists again. Damen looked at Nikandros’s neck, and wondered why his friend had chosen to wear his hair down. 

He convinced himself that a shadow on Nikandros’s neck was a mark, and then when Nikandros turned, he saw that he was mistaken. Damen argued with himself again. He was being foolish. His mind was fevered. Nothing was happening. Nothing had probably happened in the first place. He had seen a different shadow, or Nikandros had been scratched in the fighting during the coup as Laurent had implied. Nikandros did not act as he did when he was hiding something from Damen. 

Although Laurent seemed exceptionally energized for the small number of hours he spent sleeping each day, tucked in to Damen’s bed on the far side so that his movements and his waking would not disturb Damen’s injury. Laurent did not seem hungry, even though it had been days since he would have eaten. He might be feeding. Perhaps he and Nikandros had conspired so that Laurent had bit him somewhere that his clothing would cover. 

Perhaps Laurent was biting someone else. Damen liked this thought even less. If Laurent were going to bite someone who wasn’t him, it should at least be Nikandros. 

Damen felt very attuned to signs of Laurent’s hunger. He had spent the last several months paying particular attention to Laurent’s appetite, because his well being and his return to his homeland had depended on it. He had observed Laurent closely as they had traveled from Arles to the border, keenly aware of any signals that Laurent gave off.

Over the following days, he noticed some of the things Laurent did. Laurent was drinking a lot of water, frequently refilling his goblet from a pitcher. Laurent seemed more sensitive to scents, complaining about the oppressive scent of the cinnamon salve Paschal had been using on Damen’s wound and opening a window to air out the room. 

Laurent’s eyes and gaze had a certain quality to them that Damen understood to be indicative of his hunger.

Damen wanted to feed him. He wanted to pull Laurent in to him and cradle Laurent's head against his neck. He wanted to feel the sharp press of Laurents’ teeth. It would be a good clean pain, a sharp pain to contrast against the deep ache of his wound. 

He wanted to see Laurent’s bloodied lips, and watch Laurent lick the blood off his lips and teeth with his tongue.

He wanted Laurent. His body was trying to respond to Laurent’s hunger the way he would have tried to respond to a lover’s desire.

Laurent could see what Damen was doing, and he simply raised an eyebrow and said, “Absolutely not.”

“You are hungry,” said Damen.

“You’re sick,” said Laurent.

“You want to.”

“Sick people do not even taste good.” The character of Laurent’s gaze on Damen made Damen somewhat suspicious of the truthfulness of this statement, but Laurent remained unmoved.

Several more days passed, as Damen tried to think of new arguments.

Laurent became obviously more and more hungry. Damen became stronger. He was allowed out of bed for the first time, walking across the room three steps to the chamber pot with Paschal’s assistance.

Another night passed, and then another day, and then it was evening and he was sitting together with Laurent. Laurent had been gone all day, working, always busy with the business of joining the kingdoms and securing the peace, and now he is back. He looked tired.

His face showed strain and Damen had just watched him drink three goblets of water. His eyes were restless. 

Damen could tell that Laurent was suffering, so Damen took Laurents hand, caressed it gently, and called to the guards at the door. “Send for Nikandros.”

Nikandros arrived. 

Laurent refused to look over at his entrance. Damen beckoned Nikandros closer to the bed.

Laurent was already seated on one side of Damen’s bed, so Nikandros approached on the other side. Damen reached for Laurent and curled Laurent into a relaxed position leaning against Damen’s good side. Laurent resisted slightly, like one of the palace cats might if you attempted to cuddle them and they were not interested. Laurent waited a long moment--like a cat indicating that curling up in that particular spot was his decision and not for any reason that had anything to do with anything else--and then relaxed against Damen’s shoulder. His eyes remained open, alert and wary.

Damen patted the bed on his other side. Nikandros also had a wary look in his eyes. “Old friend,” Damen said. 

Nikandros settled himself gingerly on the other side of the bed. He looked as though he were trying not to jostle the bed too much, not wanting to aggravate Damen’s wound. 

Damen reached out a hand toward Nikandros, the hand that wasn’t curled around Laurent. 

Nikandros offered his hand willingly to Damen.

Damen drew it across himself and positioned Nikandros’s wrist for Laurent.

It was the same wrist that Laurent had fed on before. One of the two scabs had flaked off, leaving only a white mark on Nikandros’s dark skin where it had been. The other scab was still dark red, old. 

Laurent wrinkled his nose. He didn’t like biting where there was already a mark, Damen knew, from long minutes of having Laurent inspect him and find unmarked sections of skin. 

But Laurent said nothing, and Nikandros was already cooperating enough to have gone this far, and Damen didn’t wish to push him further. The jealousy within Damen also inclined him to not make biting Nikandros particularly good for Laurent.

Laurent hesitated. His eyes narrowed. He sniffed at Nikandros’s wrist.

Damen moved Nikandros’s wrist closer, enticingly.

Nikandros objected. “You are treating him like a spoiled kitten.” He didn’t draw his wrist away, though.

“Please,” Damen said, to Laurent, ignoring Nikandros.

Laurent abided, and Damen watched as Laurent’s lips closed over Nikandros’s wrist. Damen could imagine how it felt, Laurent’s teeth puncturing the skin, his mouth sucking at the wound.

Nikandros made a slight noise of pain, and Damen made a satisfied noise. “That’s good,” Damen said, uncertain exactly which of the pair he was speaking to.

Nikandros shifted on the bed to lean closer to Damen. This disrupted Laurent slightly and he made a miffed noise. Damen obligingly shifted a bit so that Nikandros could settle against him in a position that was comfortable for both of them, and then repositioned Nikandros’s wrist for Laurent. 

Laurent finished, and did his characteristic kittenish licking of the wound. It was fascinating to watch from this different angle, Damen thought. To see what Laurent did without the distraction of feeling what Laurent did. 

“Why do you lick, like that?” Damen said.

Laurent paused with his tongue still half-out, looking at Damen with a glare. 

Damen felt this was a reasonable question. 

Laurent ignored Damen and finished with Nikandros’s wrist and settled back against Damen’s shoulder. Damen kept hold of Nikandros’s wrist and put pressure on the bite marks. Damen had a moment of contentment. His wound was recovering. He was comfortable in his own bed. The two people who were most important to him were resting against him. 

“Thank you, old friend,” said Damen.

**Author's Note:**

> I will do the thing we talked about in the chat in the third time Laurent bites Nikandros....slkdjfajfdlajfalj


End file.
